


(Death) Song

by Ritequette



Series: DGM Hallow Countdown [6]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grimdark, M/M, Way creepier than I intended it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7381852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritequette/pseuds/Ritequette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nea D. Campbell is destroyed. Something else is born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Death) Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr DGM Hallow Countdown.
> 
> Day 6 Prompt: Tribulation

_“When I am dead, my dearest,_

_Sing no sad songs for me;_

_Plant thou no roses at my head,_

_Nor shady cypress tree:_

_Be the green grass above me_

_With showers and dewdrops wet;_

_And if thou wilt, remember,_

_And if thou wilt, forget.”_

 

Afterward, Link finds him on the outskirts of the battlefield. A swath of razed, ashy ground where a town used to be. 

Before, when they arrive, Link and the 14th, this place is a bustling, growing port town, crawling its way toward cityhood. But then, during their first peaceful meal in weeks, Apocryphos appears, tracking them down even after a hundred-mile train ride. And shortly thereafter, the Noah follow. It takes twenty minutes, and perhaps thirty akuma, to reduce all life to dust and leave the buildings broken, empty husks.

At some point in the fray, bullets flying, dark matter screaming across the sky, Link loses track of his companion. He’s too busy dodging blows from a Level 3 and trying to head off the sentient Innocence at the same time—God, that abomination never ceases to give him chills—and somehow, some way, the 14th wearing Walker’s skin vanishes from his sight. When the remaining akuma suddenly retreat, about ten minutes after Apocryphos escapes Link’s grasp entirely, he realizes he can’t feel the 14th’s ki anywhere nearby.

So he goes looking. Still tense. Still prepared for a fight. Knowing an akuma could be hiding in any of the lengthening twilight shadows. His knives drenched in akuma oil glisten in the setting sun, and as he treks onward through the dust-filled streets, flecks of gray cling to his blades, a grim reminder. There were dozens of people in this market lane before the fight. Now, there are none. 

Link searches for the better part of an hour, becoming increasingly worried the longer he can’t locate the 14th. Against three Noah, a horde of akuma, and Apocryphos, even the 14th wouldn’t have dared to flash his usual inflated arrogance. The man is a bastard, but he’s not a fool. He would’ve taken the fight seriously, and retreated if need be. And, Link knows, he wouldn’t have left his “little Crow helper” behind, not after Link proved the usefulness of Atuuda.

But if he didn’t open an Ark Gate and run off, then where is he now? Surely he didn’t let himself get snatched by the Noah. Surely he didn’t…

Link pauses mid-step, something stark and unholy glittering in the corner of his eye. He turns his head to stare down a narrow road that leads to the outskirts of town—and sees it, lying there on the dusty cobbles: a feather.

Apocryphos.

The 14th had left the Innocence to Link, concerned that the _thing_ might try to fuse with him again. He didn’t want to get too close. And neither did Link, not after…he shudders at the fragmented memory of the night in Walker’s cell. The truth only started returning him to recently, flashes of that monster with its hand shoved through his chest. It violated him in the worst of ways, destroying his body, altering his mind. No, he didn’t want to get anywhere near Apocryphos again.

But he follows the 14th now, by Lvellie’s command. And so he fought the sentient Innocence without a word of complaint. And then he lost the sentient Innocence and has no idea where it went…

Had no idea. 

Until now.

Link turns and strides toward the feather, eying his surroundings carefully. This part of town was hit much harder than the rest, the buildings rendered nothing but foundations and support beams, walls and floors and ceilings left piles of scorched and broken wood. Link spots blood and akuma oil spattered across the ruins, but he finds no bodies, other than the metallic remains of the Earl’s monstrous soldiers. So—

A sunbeam cuts through a cloud, illuminating a previously shadowed courtyard. Small. Fenced in by wrought iron. Sporting a tiny cherub fountain and a well-tended home garden. Behind this garden, there is a tree, limbs nearly bare this time of year. And underneath that tree, propped against the trunk, bloody from head to toe, clothes nearly torn away…is the 14th.

Link turns on his heels and barrels toward the man, whispering to Atuuda under breath. He has no idea how injured the 14th is, if his wounds are even survivable, if he’s _already_ passed on, beyond Link’s ability to heal him. But he has to try, one way or another, to do his duty. He swore loyalty to Lvellie, and on Lvellie’s command, did the same to the 14 th. And no matter how bad a taste such an act leaves in his mouth, he’s bound to… 

The 14th moves, a slight shudder from the cold, and Link breathes a sigh of relief. As long as his heart still beats, Link can heal his wounds. Link hops the iron fence in a single bound and lands in a crouch on the other side. Then he rises and hurries toward the 14th, trying to discern what his exact injuries are so he can focus…focus…

Link comes a stop a few feet in front of the crumpled form. The left side of the 14th’s face is bloody, hair stuck to his skin, matted up. His left arm is in even worse shape, the Innocence cracked and broken, in a state Link has _never_ seen Walker’s Innocence. And his shoulder—the normal skin is red and blistered, skin peeling, leaking fluid and blood, as if someone took a torch to it. He’s never seen a Noah inflict _that_ particular type of injury either.

A flutter catches Link’s attention, and he glances right. More feathers. Caught in the prickly leaves of a nearby bush. And for the first time, the eerie silence of the slaughtered town assaults him. A shiver builds in his spine, and he breathes out dread.

What did Apocryphos _do_ to the 14 th?

Link drops to his knees before the man and gently lifts his chin to get a better look at his face. Only to realize, with nauseating horror, that Walker’s left eye is _gone._ Link knows that Road Kamelot destroyed it once, and that it healed on its own, due to the curse, but…Link mutters swears to himself, soft yet deafening in the silence.

Walker’s curse mark is gone as well. Apocryphos took it from him. 

Link’s gaze drops to his arm again.

And the bastard nearly took Crown Clown as well, didn’t he? The Innocence looks so broken that Link wonders if Walker— _No_ , he reminds himself. No. Walker doesn’t _need_ his Innocence anymore because Walker is gone. Gone for good. Gone forever. (The 14 th has made that so, _so_ clear.)

Nea D. Campbell, unlike Walker, doesn’t need Crown Clown. In fact, the 14th _hates_ that arm, because it inhibits his own Noah powers. So he’ll probably be happy when he wakes to find that Walker’s beloved Innocence is now a broken piece of junk, and… 

Link takes a breath and refocuses on the task at hand. “Atuuda, come out—”

The 14th’s right hand shoots up and wraps around Link’s wrist with a vice-like grip. Link freezes. He stares at the 14th’s face for what seems like hours, waiting for the man to open his remaining eye and let some cruel jab fly from lips that are no longer capable of producing Walker’s lovely smiles.

But when that eye finally opens, Link doesn’t see the 14th Noah. When that eye opens, Link doesn’t see Nea D. Campbell on his obsessive quest to save his brother. Link doesn’t see Walker’s pale blue eye distorted with the Noah’s cruel intentions. And he doesn’t sense, in that eye’s gaze, the ki has defined the 14th since the moment they first met atop that roof.

But Link doesn’t see Allen Walker either. 

The grip tightens on Link’s wrist, nearly snapping the bone, and Link tries to pull away but finds himself rooted to the spot. The golden eye blinks, once, twice, three times, almost in confusion, and then it casts its gaze off to the side, to the feathers in the bush. Walker’s mouth opens, and a rough whisper emerges. “Tell me, what happened to that fucking Innocence?” He yanks Link closer. “Did it get away?”

“I…” Link is at a loss. He doesn’t understand who he’s talking to. The ki resonating from Walker’s body is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. And yet, it’s somehow familiar. “I don’t know. I wasn’t here. I was fighting on the other side of town.”

The thing in Walker’s body growls, and the hand finally lets Link go. He stumbles back and falls to his knees. “W-Who…?” he stutters, incapable of hiding his reactions, all his Crow training tumbling out the window. “Who…are you? You’re not Nea. And you’re certainly not Walker.”

The thing blinks at him with that one gold eye, disgust at Apocryphos’s escape still wrenching his lips into a sneer. “Nea? Walker? You mean the lonely twin and the sad little boy who were traipsing about in here?” He gestures to his own body. “Those two?”

Link swallows. “Yes…?” 

“Oh, they’re long gone. That fucking Innocence tore in their minds and ripped them both to shreds. You should have seen it. Minds collapsing. All the screaming. A wheat field on fire. A black moon burning.” The thing chuckles. “Nope. They didn’t survive that. Just a pile of smoking fragments banging around in here. Besides that, there’s only me.”

Link reaches back to grip one of his knives, but his shaking fingers refuse to wrap around the hilt. “And who the hell are you?”

The thing stares at him for a long, silent moment. Then it smiles, a mockery of Walker’s smile so blindingly wrong that Link nearly throws up at the sight of it. And then, _then…_ Walker’s skin turns dark, Noah dark. A row of crosses form across his forehead, fresh and bloody. His wounds begin to heal themselves, flesh knitting back together underneath coagulated blood. And Crown Clown—crumbles away into nothing, its cube form bouncing away across the grass. 

“Who am I?” says the thing, as it starts to laugh. “Well, gee, I haven’t got a clue. I guess I’m a little bit Nea, and a little bit ‘Walker’ too. Do you think that makes me something old? Or something brand fucking new?” It rises to its feet, and peers down at Link, offering him his left hand, even as it’s reforming, veins exposed, muscles bare, fingers barely bone and sinew. And the _ki_. Good fucking Lord, the _ki._  

Link turns around and vomits until he can hardly breathe.

“You know,” the thing whispers in his ear, “why don’t we go find out who I am, just me and you?”

 _No!_ Link wants to scream. But nothing passes his lips. His vision wavers, and he falls flat on the ground, gasping for air. _What’s happening to me? What is this thing? What abomination did Apocryphos create?_  

“I mean, after all,” continues the thing, the last words Link hears for a very long time, “maybe if I learn enough, I can be your precious ‘Walker’ for you.”

 

_“I shall not see the shadows,_

_I shall not feel the rain;_

_I shall not hear the nightingale_

_Sing on, as if in pain:_

_And dreaming through the twilight_

_That doth not rise nor set,_

_Haply I may remember,_

_And haply may forget.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Poem "Song" by Christina Rossetti


End file.
